So there we were in Gatwick Airport at 7:00 a.m. asking for 12 month visas. We had been assured by the consulate in Chicago that we could just get them at the airport no problem. Seems that there was nobody for the passport people to ask about what obviously wasn't a common request, until the customs staff came in at 9:00. So they locked us up in a room with a whole lot of West Africans, none of whom spoke English.
Sometime after 9:00 we were released into the custody of an immigration officer who obviously was trying to prove we should be sent back to the States - a very rude and officious woman. Luckily we could prove that we had the funds to keep us for at least a year without having to take jobs from deserving Brits. She finally, after about an hour's hassle, gave us our visas and sent us on our way stressed out and exhausted. Later we found that we would have to register with the local police and fill out a form every year in order to renew the visa. As it turned out, once we were in, they just renewed it every year with no hassle at all.
Finally we got ourselves and all our luggage stuffed into a Ford Escort and started off to drive through the middle of London on what seemed to us the wrong side of the road. We had planned to stop in the city to visit an old friend but stressed, tired and hungry as we were by that time, survival seemed a bigger priority and we were glad enough to actually get through the city without having an accident or getting too lost. We were happy to find that magical highway sign that says "To The North" and really be on the road home.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
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